


The Family That Slams Together, uh... Fams Together

by jaclynhyde



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Family, Gen, M/M, named Dadsona, stepfamily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 18:04:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13036515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaclynhyde/pseuds/jaclynhyde
Summary: Victor always knew he was a great Dad--just look how Amanda turned out.  But getting closer to Hugo means being a Dad to Ernest, and Ernest is not too happy about that.Also Ernest keeps setting things on fire.





	The Family That Slams Together, uh... Fams Together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [masterofmidgets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterofmidgets/gifts).



> Have a very happy Yuletide, masterofmidgets! This was tons of fun to write and thanks to you, Ernest is now one of my favorites too. Thank you to my excellent beta vanishinghitchhiker, who named the fic and Dadsona and came up with some of the best jokes.
> 
> See the end notes for minor content warnings!

**I. The Introduction**

In the dog-eat-dog world of professional wrestling, Bomb Clancy had clawed his way to the top, breaking hearts and bones along the way. And now, on the night of his fateful rematch against J.D. Slamminger, there was nothing to stop him.

Except for Victor forgetting his sinister wrestling mask at home and having to leave Slamminger waiting as he went to pick it up. He'd smashed Slamminger's lips in with his lips on the way out. Just so he didn't get too cocky.

All in all, Victor reflected, life was pretty great. He and Hugo had the house to themselves tonight while Ernest went to a movie, and Ernest hadn't even complained too much when Hugo asked what he was seeing. It wasn't too cold out, Hugo was waiting for him, and he could hear the kids laughing in the yard as he pulled out his keys. As he let himself in the front door, Victor couldn't help but savor a warm feeling of contentment. Amanda had only been away for a few months, but it was so good to hear her back at home—

Wait.

Wait Amanda was still at college.

WAIT THIS WAS A HOME INVASION.

Okay. Okay. He would just do the sensible thing, like he'd always told Amanda, and set up a series of elaborate traps to inflict mildly disfiguring bodily harm on whatever crooks came looking for him. But what if Hugo came to look for him and got smashed in the face with a sizzling iron? J.D. Slamminger could definitely pull off a cool mask to hide the perfectly iron-shaped burn, but it might look a little out of place in yearbook portraits. Besides, he wasn't 100% sure where the iron was anyway. Maybe Amanda took it to college?

So he'd just walk out into the backyard with something intimidating and scare them away. Like...a broom. The rake would be scarier but it was also in the backyard and _oh god what if they'd armed themselves already_

Wielding the broom in a perfectly macho and not at all terrified fashion, Victor swung open the back door and shouted, "GET OUT OF MY YARD YOU DIRTY ANIMA—ERNEST. ERNEST WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE."

The air was filled with a haze of Vape. The backyard was filled with a small crowd of Youths, gathering around Ernest who was holding a lit lighter. Not to his Vape...r..., but to a pile of clothes strewn on the ground.

"ERNEST ARE YOU TRYING TO BURN DOWN MY LAWN!"

Sighing loudly, like _Victor_ was being the unreasonable one here, Ernest flicked the lighter off. "Ugh. Why are you home?"

"ERNEST I LIVE HERE."

The Youths were abandoning Ernest while he had Victor's attention, hopefully teaching Ernest a valuable lesson about the perils of hanging out with a bad crowd. Except he kind of _was_ the bad crowd, so maybe the Youths were learning a valuable lesson? In any case, Ernest was glaring. " _Barely._ "

Victor paused. "Wait, what?"

"You're always at _Hugo's_  house."

"Not _always."_ Just after trivia nights. And wrestling nights. And _their_ wrestling nights. And hey, Hugo spent the weekends at _his_ place, it wasn't like—Wait he wasn't the one in trouble here. "What...what are you burning, anyway?" They weren't Hugo's clothes, or Victor's clothes, or their _special_ clothes. (For wrestling.)

"Your lawn."

"What are you burning _on_ the lawn?" Victor asked patiently.

"Clothes."

He resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Okay. Fine. Just take them home. And don't set them on fire there either."

 _"You_ take them. You're the one going right back."

"That's not the—Ernest! Where are you going!"

Ernest didn't even look back. "Out." And then he hopped the fence, leaving Victor with a slightly singed pile of unidentified clothes.

"You're already out!" he shouted, a little belatedly. Was burning clothes a Youth thing now? Amanda had never gone through this phase. Well, at least not in their backyard. If it _had_ been Amanda, though, he'd know what to do. Or at least guess. Even if Amanda revisiting her pyromaniac phase would have been... _concerning_ , at least she'd be willing to listen to him. And he could have grounded her, if he really needed to, before he felt guilty and brought her out for ice cream within a day.

But he could worry about Ernest later—right now, he had a wrestling partner waiting for him. And he still had to grab that mask.

* * *

Hugo raised an eyebrow at Victor when he let himself back into his house. "Ernest isn't at the movies, is he."

Victor probably had that expression on his face. That one Hugo had whenever Ernest did something Difficult. (He'd bet it looked a lot cuter on Hugo, though. He couldn't compare to the mustache.)

Or maybe it was the lawn and leaf bag full of clothes that smelled like Vape.

“He…" He could take the time to explain, even though Hugo would be busy the rest of the week with preparations for Professional Development Day. (Which teachers apparently enjoyed a lot less than the students getting a day off to wreak havoc. Especially when that teacher was responsible for Ernest having free time.) Or they could enjoy some time to themselves, just Hugo and Victor.

Slamminger and Clancy.

"Trying to distract me while you're in clear and present danger, Slamminger?" He tossed the bag dramatically aside (he'd, uh, pick up whatever he knocked over later) and pulled on his red, white, and blue mask.

Hugo's playful grin still made his stomach flip. "Not after I send you through that Glass window." Okay, he was missing something here. "Like Franny and Zooey Glass." Victor stared at him blankly.  "From Salinger's short stori— _now_ who's trying to distract me?" Distracting him by kissing him—even Clancy couldn't complain about that.

* * *

 

**II. The Shine**

And J.D. Slamminger was down for the count! Felled not by his fearsome rival Bomb Clancy, but by The School of Hard Knocks' one-two finishers "Professional DeHELLopment Day" and "Grating Grading (And Finishing Lesson Plans and Various Tasks That Need To Be Done Before the Students' Day Off)." So only Bomb Clancy was left to fight...his son...for dinner…?

Jeez wrestling storylines got complicated.

Which explained why Victor was heading over to Hugo's place while Hugo was stuck late at work. He was pretty sure Ernest could feed himself, judging by the bottomless stack of pizza rolls taking up half of Hugo's freezer. But Hugo had _asked_ him, and it wasn't because he would make Ernest something healthy. (He  _could_ make healthy meals, except he frequently had the uncontrollable urge to cover them with cheese.)

He could do this! Just do a nice favor for Hugo. And Ernest. It wasn't like he was trying to be a father figure or anything just because he really, really liked spending time with Hugo and once had a really nice dream where they got married. Except Ernest refused to wear a suit because all his smoke bombs were in his hoodie. And then he remotely detonated the one he snuck in the cake and cackled and the wedding was ruined.

Nothing like that.

Letting himself in, Victor called, "Hey, Ernest!" Hopefully he was home. Considering Victor had just left his house a minute ago, Ernest wasn't breaking into his yard again probably. (Well, jumping into his yard. Maybe he needed a taller fence.)

There, just the irritated sigh he was looking for. Listening for. Victor dropped off his supplies on the kitchen table, then checked the fridge for the other ingredients. Milk, eggs, everything he needed. Plus _lots_ of fancy cheese that Ernest hated but would serve admirably if hunger overtook Victor.

As he pulled out what he needed, the sullen shuffling in the hallway grew louder, then stopped with a scoff at the doorway.  "Why are _you_ here?" Ernest was communicating in words instead of turning his music up to deafening levels, that was always a good sign.

Victor waved cheerfully before digging into the bag he brought. "Your Dad had to work late, so he asked me to stop by and make you dinner."

He could _hear_ Ernest rolling his eyes. (His hearing had gotten a lot sharper during Amanda's tween years.) "I can make dinner."

"But can you make…" Victor straightened up, dramatically brandishing a box of pancake mix. _"Breakfast_ for dinner?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Not like _I_ make it." He tossed a rubber-banded bag of chocolate chips to Ernest, who caught them instead of letting them fall to the floor. See, this was going great. "Did you know," he said, pouring the mix into a bowl, "that International Pancake Day is the same day as—"

"Mardi Gras."

What? Did everyone know that now? The only reason Victor knew was—ohhhh. "You read the Crapper Keeper too!"

Ernest slouched further into his sweatshirt. "What. It's _there_." Just as Victor was starting to feel good about the night, Ernest smirked at him. "Did _you_ know the graham cracker guy invented them to make people stop—"

"Chocolate chips! Please!" Ernest lobbed the chocolate chips at his head, probably harder than he needed to. Still not on the floor! Hey, maybe he could get Ernest to actually help cook. Before he demonstrated whether he'd picked up any of the other...less appropriate facts from the Crapper Keeper. "Here, stir."

Ernest didn't take the spoon he was holding right away—in fact, he waited long enough that Victor was mentally preparing some pointed Dad jokes—but he did take it. That left Victor free to prepare the pan, and they both worked in comfortable silence. Well, he _thought_ it was comfortable. Anyway he would hear if Ernest spat in the batter.

The stirring went spitless, at least as far as Victor could tell, and soon enough he was serving up warm, perfectly fluffy chocolate chip pancake stacks for the both of them. Okay this might be too much silence. What if they could be having a Moment, and Victor was losing his chance?

So what should he say? 'How are things going at school?' probably wouldn't go well. He already knew what Ernest had been doing lately and he didn't need to remind him that burning things was fun. Which it wasn't. Maybe a nice, casual 'what's up?' As a bonus, Ernest was possibly the only non-Amanda person he talked to that wouldn't answer 'the ceiling.' Yeah, that was it.

"What's up?"

"Nothing." Okay. He probably should have expected that.

Well, he'd show Ernest, he could carry on a conversation too! "I've been…" Hanging out with Hugo, a lot, which Ernest probably knew already. Winning at trivia, which Ernest definitely knew already because Hugo let him pick out a novelty car accessory with their winnings. Not the one with a pot leaf on it though. Uh, what else? "...watching Long Haul Paranormal Ice Road Ghost Truckers. Did you see the new episode with the haunted chupacabra?"

"Nah." Ernest took a forkful of pancakes and, with his mouth full, mumbled, "It's on the same time as The Great Bachelor Bake Off."

"Oh yeah, isn't that one where the contestant baked his engagement ring into the souffle and he lost all his points when it fell?"

"He should've _won_! You could tell he really liked her, and Dave only wanted to earn his Michelin star. But Dave had the dead sous chef sob story so of _course_ he won. Ugh." Ernest stabbed at a pancake bit and Victor hid a smile.

"So what was with the guy who made mackerel petits fours?"

"Okay that was after Dave sabotaged him but he was faking liking Maria anyway so fuck him."

"Lang—" Victor stopped himself. You know what, it was fine. He could let this slide. Hugo could handle it, and he'd—

Victor dropped his fork with a clank. "Oh god, I'm trying to be the Fun Dad."

Ernest immediately replied, "You're not fun."

"Uh. Thanks." He didn't have to reply _that_ quickly. But...it made him feel better. Somehow. A few minutes of discussing who was worthy of baking their way to Maria's heart later, Ernest pushed his chair away from the table. "Later."

"Hey, Ernest?" Ernest looked at him skeptically. "That was a nice dinner. You know, it's good to—"

"Stop talking. You're ruining it."

"Right," said Victor, and took another bite of delicious pancakes. Nailed it.

* * *

 

**III. The Heat**

Charged up from his recent victory, Bomb Clancy was eager to take on J.D. Slamminger again. But Slamminger was still in his endurance match with The School of Hard Knocks, namely because it was 10:30 AM on a weekday. And honestly Clancy wasn't really eager to take on anything because he had just woken up and hadn't had any caffeine yet. So their feud could wait a little while.

Amanda had texted him at ten to brag about being to sleep in until ten, and he considered sleeping in to eleven just to one-up her but then she'd texted him some photos and he was too overcome with Dadly pride to go back to sleep. So he figured he'd head to the Coffee Spoon and make her proud by socializing. And also get a Biggie Smalls coffee. If that _was_ the big one. Maybe two.

Pablo was working the counter when he came in, and it must have been a slow day because he was talking to the only customer there, leaning against the counter and laughing at whatever Pablo was saying. Wait, he knew that customer!

"Hey Ernest!" Victor waved, and Ernest jumped. He looked...guilty, for some reason, but since when had Ernest looked guilty about anything? Maybe it was something big, like a coffee shop heist. _What if his Youth friends were unloading bundles of Right Said Banana Bread in the back even as they spoke?_

No, hold on, Ernest's face was bright red. He didn't look guilty, he looked _embarrassed_ . Victor was no stranger to embarrassing his—embarrassing kids, but he hadn't _done_ anything this time. And Ernest was just talking to Pablo, it wasn't like he was doing anything embarrassing—

Wait. This was reminding him of Amanda, that one time (okay a few times) he picked her up from school and she got really embarrassed for no reason. When he waved to her while she was talking to that boy she liked. Victor looked at Ernest. He looked at Pablo.

Oh. _Ohhhhhhh_.

Victor opened his mouth. Just play it cool. "So—!"

"Forget it," Ernest snarled, stalking past him out of the store.

That went well. "...see you later!" he called to his back. He'd...just pretend he didn't know. And maybe ask Hugo how much of The Talk about Crushes on Cool Older Guys he'd given Ernest.

Turning to Pablo, he offered a smile. "Uh. Sorry for scaring away your customer." It was early, maybe Ernest would go back after— "Wait, shouldn't he be in school?"

Pablo paused in the middle of a bite of coffee cake. "Oh yeah." With a shrug, he rung up Victor's usual. "I'll tell him to go back next time." A nice thought, but Pablo was lying. He wasn't a narc.

He...he should chase Ernest down. But he didn't know enough about Youth Hangouts to find him, especially when Ernest knew he'd be looking. Also he was really not awake enough for any of this yet. So he sent Hugo a Dadbook message and made a mental note to gently but firmly talk to Ernest about skipping school later. And give off the air of being very supportive about his romantic choices and that sometimes people don't like you back and that's okay! without giving any indication he noticed anything at all.

He could handle this. He and Ernest were starting to get somewhere. With a smile, Victor leaned back and took a long sip. Things were going to be just fine.

* * *

Waking up to construction going on outside was much more annoying than waking up to Hugo cooking breakfast, or a text from Amanda, or pretty much anything except those times Amanda woke him up by throwing up on his face. (She had some impressive aim as a baby, he'd give her that.) And the construction workers were so _loud_. Didn't they know people were sleeping at—Victor checked the clock—two PM? Post-lunch naps were a perfectly valid choice that many people indulged in, even when they slept in that day.

Construction didn't usually start at two PM, did it? And didn't Joseph always give everyone notice?

Not to mention construction workers didn't usually sound like—

Victor opened the window to peek out, and WHOA that was an egg zooming really close to his face and splattering on the side of the house. What the hell! Time to head to—time to _close the window_ and get to the front door. And have a Talk with that vandal who sounded awfully familiar.

Victor slammed the door open. "ERNEST," he bellowed, and the Youth that was hitting his mailbox with a baseball bat stopped and turned to scowl at him defiantly. It was Ernest, orange hoodie pulled up to hide his face except who else had that orange of a hoodie. The other Youths didn't even run away, and in _his_ day, they were bright enough to run when someone confronted them. "I'M NOT MAD, I'M—NO ACTUALLY I'M KIND OF MAD! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!"

"What does it look like, dumbass!" he shouted back. "I'm smashing your stupid mailbox!"

"And egging your house," said a Youth.

"And egging your house!"

"WHY MY HOUSE!" And yeah, he was angry, but the sudden lump in his throat felt even worse. "Ernest, come on. I thought we—"

Ernest snorted. "You thought _what?_ You're not my dad! And half of them suck too!" The Youths were looking between him and Ernest, eggs and—was that seriously toilet paper?—forgotten.

"Ernest, you don't have to—"

"You can't tell me what to do! And I don't care what you think anyway!" He was angry at everyone, Victor reminded himself. He was always rebelling against Hugo, who obviously loved him, so of course he wouldn't warm right up to Victor no matter how nice he was. But Amanda had never, even in her most rebellious years, gone this far. And maybe he didn't know as much about being a Dad as he thought, because he didn't know what to do.

"Come on, Ernest," he said again. "Can't we just talk about it?"

Ernest made a frustrated noise. "This is _boring_ , anyway. Cause you're boring. Let's go.” The Youths finally made a run for it—wait, he totally forgot to see who they were—and Ernest gave his mailbox one last half-hearted smack.

"Ernest—"

"Shut _up_!" And Ernest ran after them. He sounded—upset. Not just angry.

Or maybe he was just hearing what he wanted to.

With a sigh, Victor closed the door and leaned against the wall. He'd send Hugo a Dadbook message in a minute. Just as soon as he figured out what to say.

* * *

 

**IV. The Comeback**

Reeling from a humiliating defeat, Bomb Clancy…

Yeah no this just sucked.

Hugo had apologized profusely for Ernest—at least they were both used to _that_ —and now Ernest was grounded on his long-awaited day off. Except Hugo was at work, meaning Ernest was alone all day and would probably not be obediently grounding himself.

So had Hugo not asked Victor to keep an eye on him because he didn't think it would help, or because he felt guilty about Ernest's...Ernestness? Because either way, he was walking over to Hugo's house anyway. Ernest wasn't technically his responsibility, yet, but...Hugo could use the peace of mind. And well, maybe he was worried about Ernest. And kind of angry. Wangry.

So he just took a casual stroll over towards Hugo's house. Ernest probably wasn't even thOH GOD WHAT WAS THAT NOISE.

Casually rushing towards the racket, Victor let himself in and ran to the back door—

Oh. Okay. It was just a Youth skateboarding down the World's Ricketiest Ramp, in order to jump over a bonfire in the middle of the lawn. That was the whoosh. And the thump. That made sense.

_WHAT WERE THEY DOING THEY COULD GET KILLED_

He was staring at the Youth in horror, trying to figure out how to even _start_ with this, when a flash of color caught his eye. Bright orange. Right at the top of the ramp. The ramp that was shaking like crazy from the skateboard and probably from people breathing on it. The ramp that was not going to withstand one more reckless Youth skating down it.

And just as Victor stepped into the yard, Ernest rolled down.

It was true, what they said about accidents happening in slow motion. To this day he remembered Craig's slowly dawning look of horror that time with the banister and the keg and the glass table. This time—this time it was Ernest sailing down the ramp, and the ramp collapsing below him because seriously how was it _made,_ and Ernest's sour expression changing into panic as he fell, as he landed on his arm with not just a thud but an awful-sounding _crack_.

And for one awful moment, the only thing Victor could think was _well_ _what did he_ think _was going to happen?_.

He was ashamed even as he thought it—and then, through Ernest's steadily louder stream of curses, Victor saw his face.

Oh crap he was crying. Actual real tears crying.

" _Ernest_!" Victor hadn't thought he could move that quickly anymore, but he was kneeling next to Ernest in an instant. And oh jeez that looked bad, like not dying bad which was good but arm at a weird angle and bleeding from somewhere which was bad, obviously, and Victor was giving orders to get first aid implements and _put out that damn fire_ before his mind caught up to his mouth.

"I'll take you to the hospital, everything's gonna be okay," he said, and why wasn't Ernest wearing a jacket? It was freezing. He shucked his own jacket off, resting it around Ernest's shoulders.

"No shit, you're not gonna _leave_ me here." He would've sounded more sullen if he wasn't sniffling, hard, and luckily Victor carried around an emergency pack of tissues for occasions such as these.

"I'm gonna call Hug—"

"What? No!" Victor paused, hand on his phone. Why—? "He's just gonna be pissed off I made him leave work, _again_ , and—" Ernest sniffed, loudly.

Oh. He—oh. Victor said, gently, "No he won't. He'll be worried about you."

"Well I don't _want_ him to worry about me because I did something _stupid_!"

"What about your other dad?" Ernest just shook his head, and Victor put his arm around his shoulders. "Okay."

"Uh, Mr. Amanda's dad? Is this good?" The pack of Youths had finally returned with a towel, and icepack, and painkillers, and a snack, and maybe Victor had given too many orders at once.   

"Yeah." Gathering the supplies, he glanced over at Ernest. Ernest was looking really intently at something on the ground that coincidentally hid his face from his friends. "Now scram, before I tell Mr. Vega you broke his son.” Sure, _now_ they run. At least Hugo counted as a Real Adult. "Don't do it again!" he belatedly shouted after them.

Victor carefully tended to the break, doing everything he could that probably wouldn't break it any more or start him bleeding again right he still wasn't going to panic. "How are you feeling?" he asked, as casually as he could.

Ernest looked at him like he was an idiot. Which he maybe deserved. "Like shit."

"Language!"

"You _asked_."

Arm around his shoulders, Victor carefully helped him stand up. "Okay, fair." And Ernest didn't shrug off his arm—maybe even learned into him a little—as they made their way to the driveway, together.

* * *

Amanda had managed to avoid breaking a bone throughout her whole childhood. (He was pretty sure she bounced when she fell out of that tree.) But Victor remembered his own childhood...and teenagerhood...and adulthood...well enough to know that setting a bone hurt like hell.

Enough that Ernest was staring fixedly at his phone in the hospital bed, obviously trying really hard not to cry but it wasn't working and Victor needed to make him feel better _right now_.

Desperately, he pulled out his own phone. "Hey, look at this dog Amanda texted me." Everyone liked dogs, right? Right. He showed him Amanda's latest text, a photo of a golden retriever lying blissfully in a pile of leaves.

"Oh man that's a good dog."

"I know, right?" He scrolled up some more, to the bulldog that was a shape of a brick and had a pink doggie wheelchair. "Amanda keeps threatening to kidnap this one and make me build doggie ramps for our house."

Ernest actually giggled. "What a stupid-looking dog." He took the phone, and somehow pressed a magic button that made all the pictures Amanda had texted him show up. There were so many dogs.

Victor narrated as he scrolled upwards. "That one is named Potato and really likes belly rubs, and that's the one who keeps getting chased away by squirrels, and that one's the size of a bear—"

"Yeah I can _see_ that." But Ernest was smiling, really actually smiling through the tear tracks on his face, and it was the happiest Victor had ever seen him.

Which perfectly explained why he burst out, "ERNEST LET'S GET A DOG."

"What?"

"A DOG. RIGHT NOW. I MEAN AFTER YOUR CAST IS ON."

Ernest stared at him in disbelief. "You're shitting me."

"LANGUAGE ERNEST."

"Seriously?"

Okay, it was time to calm down and think for a second before making any promises and getting his hopes up.

Victor looked at Ernest, and thought about it.

"Yeah. Seriously." Hugo had been talking about a dog with Ernest, and with Victor, and he'd confessed his fear that Ernest wouldn't take it seriously. But seeing the way his eyes lit up, here—Victor had learned to trust when something inside him said this was the right thing to do. That this would lead to amazing things. That something like going to a parent-teacher conference, or showing someone he cared about pictures of dogs, could change both their lives.

Okay maybe not _right_ after his cast was on. "We uh, probably should ask Hugo first. And maybe tell him what happened before he gets home."

Ernest tried to scowl, but he just looked worried. "Yeah, and what if he says no?"

"Don't worry. I have a feeling he won't." Not after he tells him how dogs made Ernest smile like that, make him stop lashing out at everything and everyone even when he was in pain. "If he does, I'll work my charms on—"

"Oh god stop I _get it_ ugh."

"Stop talking, I'm ruining it?"

'Ugggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh."

Victor grinned at Ernest, and Ernest just rolled his eyes and sighed really loudly back, but it was okay. Everything was going to be okay.

* * *

 

**V. The Finish**

In a shocking swerve, Bomb Clancy and J.D. Slamminger have joined forces! Clancy's heel-face turn, expected by many, was attributed to Clancy being "madly in love with Slamminger's hot bod." As a tag team, they recently worked to support and mentor the young Ernest "I'm Not Picking A Stupid Wrestling Name" Vega by introducing him to his own tag-team partner, Brawl of the Wild.

Who may have knocked something important off the door frame as she bounded outside.

"I thought we agreed on a medium-sized dog," Hugo said, failing to hide his smile even as he winced and went to check the door.

"Duchess Cordelia didn't!" Ernest couldn't quite keep up with an extremely energetic dog with a cast keeping him off-balance, but he was surprisingly quick on his feet. Huh. Maybe Craig could convince him to join a Sport. Hugo and Victor followed at a more reasonable speed, watching Ernest tumble over and give his majestic bear-dog a hug.

"Hey Hugo I bet you can wrestle her. Duchess! Duchess Cordelia!" Kneeling down, Victor patted the ground in front of him. "Let's get ready to ruuuuumbOOF." Duchess sat on him, and man she was _not_ a medium-sized dog.

"I think she won," Hugo said. He was mentally designing a gimmick for her, he knew it.

"Best two out of three?" Duchess Cordelia wagged her tail directly at his face. "Oof."

"Duchess! Duchess come here! I gotta pizza roll!" She bounded over to Ernest. And they _had_ dog treats, along with a pile of toys as big as she was, but if they were going to bond over crappy food he couldn't point fingers.

Hugo moved to offer Victor a strong, manly hand up. Victor watched him, watching Ernest—he looked so _happy_. He'd technically grounded Ernest for the weekend, but Ernest's other Dad had agreed that to be really grounded he should stay with Hugo. And study very hard how to care for the largest dog that had ever been, and also get rid of things that she would eat such as smoke bombs and lighters and smoke from his Vape.

They were pretty sure Ernest had just hid some of that stuff on a shelf she couldn't reach, but hey, it was a start.

"...hey." Ernest walked over to them, hand in his pocket, completely failing to pull off sullen. "I, uh…" He looked away. "Thanks, Dad." And if Hugo had to hurriedly clean his glasses to hide his tears, well, Victor wasn't going to say anything. Ernest was sure going to roll his eyes, though.

"...thanks, Victor." Oh. He didn't expect—

And now Ernest was rolling his eyes at him too.

Victor smiled at him, a sudden swell of affection filling his heart."We cool?"

"You're not cool."

"At least Duchess Cordelia is."

"Yeah," said Ernest, "she is."

Leaning into Hugo's shoulder, Victor took his hand as Ernest ran off to stop Duchess Cordelia from eating a sprinkler. You know, he was right. Things were going to be just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> Content warnings: broken bone, hospital visit, Troubled Youths, Good Dogs
> 
> Bonus Content:
> 
>   * [What the Crapper Keeper said about the graham cracker guy](https://www.buzzfeed.com/tomvellner/graham-crackers-and-corn-flakes-were-invented-to-stop-you?utm_term=.cdVkblypnR#.hjlp61WB2o)
>   * Victor convinced Hugo to bring Ernest to the Coffee Spoon to get his cast signed. Ernest convinced Duchess Cordelia to sit on Victor.
> 



End file.
